


the sun in your veins (the sun in my lungs)

by yoonminsmofo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, a ridiculous drought in the other boys, happy go lucky niall, it's really sad, many nasty words, stripper!Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoonminsmofo/pseuds/yoonminsmofo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So."</p><p>"So."</p><p>"You want to tell me something?"</p><p>"Not now, Niall. Maybe later when I'm tired and won't remember what I said in the morning."</p><p>"Okay. Love you, though."</p><p>"Don't fucking patronize me."</p><p>And that's the end of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun in your veins (the sun in my lungs)

**Author's Note:**

> It's the longest and saddest thing I've ever written. Enjoy!

It really isn't fair.

None of this is fair and it's all bullshit.

"Zayn Malik on stage in three, two, one."

And all eyes are on him.

He has absolutely no control from here on out. Now, the money has the upper hand. He's merely a cheaply made marionette doll and from now until he goes to his beat down flat later, the money is guiding his strings.

Disgusting, is what this all is. He hates what he does and he hates the horny men and he hates the money and he hates seeing the younger strippers in the back crying because, "Where did I mess up so badly?"

He feels so mundane and bland. He's not extraordinary. He's ordinary and tired. He doesn't get paid much anymore for private shows or get much in tips. And it's all so redundant, like, he's been here his whole life.

At first, oh what galore, he was high on life and loving the attention. Craving it. He got tips like no one had ever seen and his private shows paid as if these men had never seen a cock and an ass to plug.

But now... His routines lack, he bores himself when he spots, maybe 2 - it's really just 5, at most - good looking young guys, but they run for the girls instead. His private show requests are always the older men and he absolutely despises those with a deep passion. It would explain why he isn't being paid in full.

He's also not in good shape. He's got infinitesimal spiels of colored bruises lining his body, marks from men from every show. He feels like a sign up sheet, all of these bruises being the signatures letting the men in. He feels pathetic and dirty and worthless and used.

"Alright, Zayn. Good show. You've got a private show at 11. Late one tonight. Bachelor party, or whatever." Zayn nods around a groan. The idiotic boss gives him a look before he walks away to tell the others strippers off because their routine on stage.

He's stressed out for the rest of the night until the clock hits 11 and his boss is pushing him to a group of guys who just walked in. So, with all the strut and flaunt he has left in him, he saunters up to the guys. They look young, a total plus, and are really attractive, another total plus.

"Hello, loves," Zayn whispers sexily. He's standing right behind a tall and muscular guy who turns and gives him a real pat down with his eyes.

"Are you Zayn?" One of the guys looks down at his phone and then up and down Zayn as if he's trying to see if it is or isn't. Zayn nods as he hears his name and purrs for good measure. "Ooh, you've got quite a treat, Logan." The tall guy he was standing behind looks at him and places a huge hand on his slim waist.

"I do. You're so pretty, baby. Wow. Not even the girls are as pretty as you." Zayn burns bright red as he grinds on Logan for a little bit. He should probably take this back to the private show stalls before this guy's friends get handsy.

"Since you are paying for me, you want to head back and," Zayn pauses to roll his hips on Logan like the disgusting slut he is and whispers, "have some _fu_ n." He saunters off but hears the wolf whistles and howls from this guy's awful friends.

"You gonna give me something worth while?" Logan whispers in Zayn's ear. Zayn rolls his body with the music and feels sultry and seductive and disastrous.

"I think you can be the judge of that," he purrs before winking and walking behind the silk curtain leading to the private show stalls.

Zayn leads Logan into one of the stalls and is ready for whatever he has to do, but is abruptly pushed against the door once it's closed.

Zayn's got these wide eyes holding fear and bewilderment. He's about to speak out, but Logan grips his god damn neck and holds him entirely still.

"You're mine for now, slut. Nasty whore like you should enjoy being choked. Or maybe you prefer being choked by a cock, yeah?" He's tossed down to his knees in seconds with a full dick in his mouth harshly. Regretful tears fall from his eyes as he prays to whatever god above to take care of him.

*

Maybe God doesn't answer the prayers from the dirty whores.

*

It's 2 in the morning when Logan finally decides he's had enough. He pushes Zayn up and off his cock and doesn't even bother checking on him when he lands on his oversensitive bum.

"I paid your boss or whatever. Wish I could refund. For a good for nothing whore, you sure are expensive." And he's gone. He leaves Zayn on the dirty floor with both their semen on his chest and more bruises to add to the massive collection on his body.

He pulls himself back up, but finds it's woozy. He can barely stand straight and all the impact goes straight to his bum.

All he feels is pain.

Walking through the nearly empty club back to backstage is a much longer trek than usual. He can't wait to get home and drown in the bathtub and sleep for days.

What's awful about leaving at 2 and not having enough money to spend on the tube all the time, is that he's all alone in a big city. He's got creepers, rapists, alcoholics, drug addicts. He's got it all. And he can't get home fast enough.

It's no different today except for the fact that are even less people than usual. It's entirely vacant and he's the only one who's out.

So putting his hood up and shoving his hands in his pockets, he walks on until home.

*

Home, they say, is where the heart is. But if you're heartless, are you homeless then?

The answer? Yes.

The ruined and bizarre flat he stays in has one bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. It's standard and not total crap, but is still nothing even a low income family would stay in. He doesn't have a tv or read books or write stories. He likes to draw. It's his only escape that won't leave him homeless, unemployed, or lying face down in a ditch with his body cut into pieces so it'll have to do.

It's weird to draw sometimes, is what Zayn finds out.

He sees no beauty in himself, sees no beauty on the streets or in his flat, no beauty in the monotonous people who walk to work every day. There's just no truly beautiful inspiration.

So he fills his sketch books with flowers and the sun. He occasionally feels good in the early morning/late night hours and that's where he'll find his joy in the sun and in flowers.

He likes the sun because the sun pushes him to be and to live. The sun takes care of him like no one else ever will.

He likes flowers because of his mother. Oh, his beautiful mother. How he wishes he could see her once more. She always had a green thumb, had flowers sprouting through her veins, practically. And she always told Zayn that he was a gardenia. Simple, soft, elegant, lovely. He was her little gardenia.

 _"Sometimes, it's too hard to deal with. But somebody has it worse than you do. Always remember that, my little gardenia."_ Her voice still rings in his mind.

He grips her words in his mind as he sketches out his mother in a gorgeous garden.

*

Maybe it's too late to be doing this. He's gonna be raped and killed out here.

It's reached 5 and he's not going to fall asleep at any time soon. So he walks down to the little library on the corner. It's not open, but he enjoys sitting on the steps and looking at the sky. He doesn't understand what it is to be free, but he sees the moon and sees such a spectacular object pointing him to his make believe freedom. 

The moon's traces of sunrise lights the world at this hour and he feels it touch him gingerly. He doesn't want to run from the pink and blue from the moon. He loves it. He loves the moon's kisses on his small body and loves the glimmer it leaves on his abused skin.

He's at ease with the world for once. He delves in the feeling.

*

When the sun came up, Zayn had no clue. He just knew there was a big hand shaking his shoulders and jostling him awake.

"Hey, mate, c'mon. Get up." Zayn looks up and let's his eyes adjust. And when they do, all he sees is blue. The sky, he thinks. But no. The blue blends with pretty greens and soft yellows and it's just so marvelously flawless. The sky has never been that beautiful.

He finds out that they're actually eyes, not too long later, when the lad with the beautiful eyes leans back.

"Gave me a right scare, mate. Thought you died on my steps." Zayn's confused. Steps? What steps? Shit. He shoots up quickly and feels the blue eyed boy grip his shoulder to steady him.

He finally looks around when his eyes adjust and, fuck. He fell asleep on the library steps. He stands up quickly, about to make a mad dash to the club, but remembers he's off today.

"Hey. You alright? You look sick? Come inside, c'mon." Zayn turns to the blue eyed man who's holding his hand cautiously. It's so weird to see something other than lust or hatred in eyes so kind. He's very handsome with blond hair and blue eyes and a litter of freckles on his cheeks. He's slightly taller than Zayn and Zayn steps back as he sees the biceps practically tearing his sleeves.

Zayn hesitates to take the boy's hand, but he does and let's himself be led up and into the library. It's big. It's warm and it's cozy and so lovely. He realizes the boy has taken his hand away, but he's just so taken by the beauty of the wonderful place he hasn't stepped foot into in years.

There's something just so incredibly appealing about the whole place. There are tall pillars filled with books. The shelves seem to stack up for days as they seem to tower over Zayn with his rather small stature. He can't help it when he walks forward and feels the book's spines rough against his fingers. He feels the inscriptions of titles and pictures and authors and it's just so nice. He likes the quiet atmosphere and feeling so safe behind these large books.

It's all too real when the blue eyed man puts his hand on his shoulder and he doesn't flinch at all. He doesn't turn around fast and cower in fear. He feels the books towering over him and making him feel untouchable and empowered.

"Um, I made you some tea? If you want to accompany me?" Zayn turns and nods. The blue eyes are probably magical as well because Zayn feels so safe and loved in their light.

"Yeah. That sounds lovely," Zayn says. He gets a wide smile in response before the blond walks forward and Zayn follows. It's not so scary to follow a man for once.

And it proves to stay entirely lovely. Being led into the back, Zayn had some fears. But upon seeing the cute little corner where the books were set up in rows and the table nearby holding the tea, Zayn found it quite quaint. All of his stress and worries left him as he sat at the table.

The blond man, who Zayn still had no more information on, sat across from him and smiled. He was purely handsome. Almost devastatingly. Zayn hadn't meant to stare, but how could he not?

It's when the man starts speaking that he turns away. "Well, would you mind explaining what you were doing on my steps this morning?" he says in a light, almost joking voice.

Zayn doesn't know how to answer a question that dives so deep for him. It reaches deep into his chest and holds his heart like it's incapable of beating for itself. "I, uh, couldn't sleep. And it was a nice night so I came to sit. O-On the steps," Zayn pauses and looks at the blond one. He has an eyebrow raised and a smug smirk on his lips. It makes Zayn weak kneed. "I guess I must have fallen asleep."

The blond man only laughs at him and it's electrifying. It's just a very beautiful smile.

"I don't mind. Just scared me, is all. Mind telling me who you are, though?" he says.

It's about Zayn for once in his life and he doesn't really know what to do. Does he tell this stranger everything about him or do they keep each other in the dark? Do they hide their lives from each other and drink tea in silence?

"If you're not comfortable, I mean," the blond boy looks him in the eye and shifts further in his seat, "You don't owe me anything." Zayn looks him dead in the eye. His entire life has led up to someone saying those five simple words to him.

"My name's Zayn Malik. What's yours?"

"Niall Horan. I quite like your name. Suits you." Zayn blushes fiercely. This Niall guy is very, very delightful. Zayn feels Niall's gaze as he looks away swiftly. "It's as gorgeous as you are," he whispers as well. Oh god.

"You're flattering me. Truly," Zayn laughs. He's starting to feel the courage he gets when he's at the club, but this is different. Niall doesn't want anything from him. Niall won't smack him around and hurt him and abuse him. It feels good to actually be more than a pretty face and an ass to fuck.

"You do seem to be one who deserves some flattering," Niall whispers. It's like he can read right through him. It's almost as if he just knew all of his dark secrets and he knew all that Zayn does when he's needing more pay. He gets enough flattering on a daily basis, but all of this is intimately so more different. This is a kind guy who won't decide that he'll just take over and use Zayn and leave him like nothing. Right?

"Everyone needs flattery, though, right?" Maybe it's what he's supposed to say? No idea. He doesn't know what it feels like being flattered and being cared for.

"Yeah, I guess. But not everyone deserves it," Niall says before he stands to get more tea.

*

The two boys have taken to walking through the library and skimming fingertips over keyboards and dancing their fingers over book covers.

"So you work here?" Zayn asked casually. He looked over to Niall who was placing a book back where it belonged. He was really invested in his work, if so.

"Yeah! Well, no, more like volunteer. I get paid, yeah, but I do this just because I'm rather fond of this scene." Niall looks it, too, all soft and cuddly and nerdy cute. He stacks the books in their places and lines everything up straight.

"So you read a lot?" Zayn asks. He remembered when he was able to read and actually enjoy it. He could get lost in this mountainous pile of books. He could get lost in Niall's arms, a large blanket and pillow fort, and a nice read.

"I do, yeah. Reading is what brought me in here," Niall stops and takes Zayn's hand softly as they venture towards the cushioned seats in the back. "If it weren't for my family, well- Oh, never mind that. That's a story for some other time."

Zayn's worried now though and he needs to know what Niall wants to say. His eyes are a gloomier blue and his shoulders drop slightly. He knows he's known the blond for maybe an hour, but he just knows that he should never lack the sun in his veins. The blond boy should never cast a shadow or stand in one.

But even sunny skies have clouds, sometimes.

It's eerily silent now, Niall beating himself up and Zayn just too inexperienced to know what he was supposed to do. He still feels Niall's hand in his.

"Thank you. For tea today and all." It's a muted appreciation, a simple thanks that doesn't even begin to actually express how much thanks he had for the simple day of calm and serenity.

"It was truly my pleasure. You can come back here any day you want and I'll be here. I won't let you slip through my fingers," Niall jokes. But he's being so honest. He won't let Zayn go. He doesn't believe in fate, but damn, the big man was pulling strings.

*

After a whole day out, Zayn goes home and plops onto the ratty mattress.

Fuck.

He can't stop thinking about Niall. Can't stop thinking about those stupidly blue eyes and he can't stop thinking about the way he cared, the way he made Zayn feel so happy.

It was almost like he was under a trance. He felt the almost creepy smile on his face as he got up and stripped down. He was pirouetting across the floor to the bathroom and haphazardly tossing his clothing to the floor.

The tub was large and marvelous and hot and soothing on Zayn's skin. He could feel the warmth from the water soaking into his bones and soothing his ongoing mind.

It was like Niall decided to come home with Zayn. He walked him home, with a strong and securing hand on his waist.

He undressed him softly with long, rough fingers leaving burning traces of stars on Zayn's skin.

He was in the tub across from Zayn, their legs interlocking in between them. He was looking at him with sincerity. He was burning him with his smolder.

Zayn let the water run over his bruises and hickeys and all he felt were Niall's lips. He could only imagine how it would feel to let Niall kiss his abused skin and make it better. The water cascades over him and the power is overwhelming as he imagines Niall kissing him. Kissing him smack on the lips and holding his body so softly.

The fire from Niall's lips starts overtaking his face. He can't breathe. He refuses to pull away from Niall for something as petty as air. Niall lips feel so good. They feel lovely on his nose, his cheeks, his ears, his eyelids.

The heat is too much now. He needs air.

Zayn lifts his head fast, face drenched in water and heart speeding. He looks around. No Niall. No traces of rough fingers and no marks from soft lips.

He settles in the water again, his mind settling on never seeing Niall again instead.

*

When Zayn finally wakes up, it's to a home void of the sun.

The moon takes his veins back to the world he knows. The world away from beauty. The world away from Niall.

The moon creeping through his cracked window isn't the same moon from last night. This moon slices him apart and throws him into the shadows. This moon calls the men and women to degrade him. The moon presses into his bruises and makes them hurt again.

He can't feel his toes, he notices, and realizes he's still in the cold tub. He gets out quickly and walks to his living room.

He drags a blanket over his body. He's so cold. He's absolutely freezing, no sun in his veins anymore.

His eyes darken, his hair lie limp on his forehead. His nails are bitten to stubs. His lip is bleeding. He's crying.

He never thought he'd need the sun as badly as he does right now.

*

That night, Zayn falls asleep crying, Niall the only thing filling his mind.

*

"What the fuck, Zayn? Clean your god damn act! You've been absolutely terrible in shows and on stage. You're not getting paid to fail at looking pretty."

Blah. Blah. Blah.

Zayn's tired. He's tired of this nonsense and tired of all of this bullshit. He hasn't gotten paid full in weeks. He's been living off of his savings for emergencies.

"Are you fucking listening, Zayn?" At the mention of his name, he looks at his boss. Mark. The man is disgusting, tall, slim, pretty, but a disgusting prick. He leaks lies and only twists the world to bend at his will.

"Yeah, I'm listening." What the fuck more do you want? is what he wants to say. He wants to swear out this jerk.

"Listen to me clear, alright? You're not getting anymore shows until you fix yourself. What I am going to make you do is rounds. You're on floor now for rounds. End of discuss-"

"Rounds? I won't get nearly enough money as I fucking need!"

"I don't care, Zayn. Should've thought of that before you let yourself go. Such a shame, too. Never wanted your pretty face to go," the man lightly brushes Zayn's cheek. "Get out of my office and get ready for your rounds."

It's hell. It's an actual hell that Zayn is in.

He dresses into the demeaning booty shorts and suspenders and keeps to himself. He can see the rest of the strippers looking at him sadly. They never wanted to see him dump.

It only gets worse from the stupid uniform. He carries around a tray of drinks and puts on mini shows and lets himself be touched and smacked around like a rag doll. He begs the tears to go away as he delivers drinks to a group of particularly handsy men.

"Oh wow, look at how pretty this one is." They snicker and sneer. Zayn disperses the drinks quietly and let's himself be burned to the ground harder once they see his chest.

"Look at him! Look at all those hickeys!"

"No one likes used cunts."

"Must be inexpensive for that amount of trips."

He just wants to get away from them. He takes the money from them and is about to walk away when one of them smacks his ass harshly. Fuck, it hurt.

"Don't trip, fag. Wouldn't want anymore bruises," one of them says before sticking out a leg in front of Zayn and another one of them pushing him forward.

He slams down onto the dirty floor and feels the trays rounded edges imprint in his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut to hold back the tears, but he can't help it when they slip.

"Oh god, Zayn." There are other employees making rounds and they all come to help Zayn up. They tell him not to cry, they tell him to go take a break, they tell him he'll be okay.

He doesn't believe that anymore.

*

Heading to the library at 9 at night is the stupidest thought he could have. He knows it isn't open, but he hopes Niall's in there. He holds the large sweater closer to his body in hopes of making it hurt less. His skinny jeans look funny on his chicken legs, but if it's all he has.

He goes up to the glass door and knocks softly once, twice, three times. Nothing. He knocks a little louder and this time can see a light in the distance. A body emerges from the lights and Zayn's never been happier to see a man walking towards him.

Niall's close enough now that Zayn can see him through the glass and Zayn's sure Niall can see him. His thought is proven when Niall speeds up a little and opens the door fast, his hand already softly grabbing Zayn's wrist.

"Hey, Zayn. What are you doing here?" Niall asks tenderly. Just his voice alone makes Zayn's entire body settle.

"I don't know? Just wanted to see you again?" he says. It's true. He did just want to have Niall in the same room as him.

The blond boy smiles at him and takes his hand again, the raven haired boy being led over to the light.

"Been thinking about you, too. Quite glad you're here. Started feeling alone," Niall murmurs. He looks over to Zayn and smiles at him softly.

The light that Zayn had been seeing was actually a litter of fairy lights streamed across one of the back walls. There was a large section of floor just entirely covered in white pillows and blankets, a novel left lying idle on one of the pillows.

It's so beautiful and so serene. It feels too pretty, like if Zayn touches, this whole scene will break. He doesn't step close, he stays back. He just looks at Niall melt into the scene seamlessly, blond hair and blue eyes and a dark green sweater adding life to the white.

"Hey, c'mere. Make yourself comfortable," Niall says. Zayn looks at him like he's crazy. He can't sit down. He'll mess it up. He'll turn everything ugly like he always does.

But Niall looks so soft and comfortable and inviting, his eyes hinting that he's wanted there.

Zayn steps forward and sits on the very edge of where the blanket lays. He hears Niall scoff by him before the blond pulls him back to him. He gasps loudly when Niall's hand on his waist feels loving.

"There ya go! I won't bite ya, Zayn. Just get comfortable. C'mon." Niall is unreal is what Zayn comes to. The blond boy picks up his book and begins reading to himself.

Zayn doesn't know what comes over him, but he wants Niall's attention on him, not the book. He doesn't normally want attention whatsoever, but this is so different.

"Can you," Zayn scoots closer, head on Niall's thigh and body shimmying under blankets. "Will you read to me?" He says it so silently, Zayn doesn't even believe he's said it. But Niall smiles over him, one hand skimming through Zayn's hair and a soft, faraway look in his eyes.

"Anything for you." Zayn looks up at him but looks away when he sees things he's unaccustomed to flash across his face.

*

Niall notices something. Something he's not supposed to see.

Hickeys.

Zayn fell asleep not too long after Niall started reading, the darker boy curled in on himself and looking entirely tranquil.

Niall couldn't help himself when he let his hands just barely touch Zayn's hair. His fingertips were grazing the low hair and when he pressed over some area, Zayn whimpered. Niall, without thinking against it, looks down at the back of his neck and saw the bruises. The hickeys.

Niall couldn't put it together. Who was this beautiful boy and what was he going through?

*

Zayn could definitely admit that he'd never had a better sleep in his entire life. He woke up to the fairy lights off and soft blues and warm oranges floating through the window. He lifted his head a little and saw he was on the blanket pillow fort still. But he wasn't alone.

Somehow, maybe halfway through the night, Niall took up the space behind Zayn. He didn't touch the black haired boy, but he was close enough that Zayn could feel his warmth.

The blond boy was beautiful when he slept, body going soft and motionless. He lied by Zayn and towered over him even then, but when he was asleep, he looked so well rested and at peace.

Zayn just wanted to curl himself under the blanket and into Niall's dark green sweater.

So he did.

He sighed softly when his hands stayed at his chest, but Niall's hands immediately went to wrap around him softly. He was right in Niall's arms now and he was entirely sure that he would never find a better way to fall asleep than like this.

*

"Good Morning, Sunshine."

Zayn refuses to leave this glorious dream land he's created in favor of heading back to reality. He didn't want that all. He wanted to stay in this limbo where he and Niall were invincible and Niall took him away from his cruel life. He didn't want to leave the warmth he felt when Niall transferred the sun from his veins into Zayn's lungs.

"Zayn, Sunshine, wake up. C'mon wake up." Lingering fingers and smooth movements all over his body are what wake Zayn. He slowly opens one eye and swears he sees his angel looking down at him.

"G'morning, dear. Let's go. Uppy, uppy. Got a big day!" Niall says. Whatever he means by that, Zayn doesn't care. Niall wanting to spend his Sunday with him definitely does matter.

"No. I couldn't intrude. I can just head home," Zayn says. He doesn't want to keep jumping into Niall's life like this.

"Nonsense. My Sundays are spent entirely lonely. Take me from my normal misery?" Niall asks, his hand outstretched for Zayn. The dark haired boy is just lying on the pillows and blankets, his blushing face hidden behind his arm.

"Niall, I don't-" Zayn starts to speak, but Niall stops him.

"Zayn, please come. It's absolutely no issue. It's really just a free day for me! Really!" Niall says breathlessly. He doesn't want to push Zayn to do something he doesn't want to do, but he'd like or Zayn to come. He'd like to show the beautiful boy around and take him to his favorite places in the world.

Finally, Zayn said yes and Niall jumped up happily. He didn't know what it was about the raven haired boy, but Niall knew he needed a break. He needed some happiness and he needed an escape from whatever gave him all those bruises and made him come into the library at nine at night.

Zayn's heart beats maniacally in his chest as he stands to his feet. He looks down and realizes what he's wearing, big sweater riding down his shoulder and skinny jeans fitted grossly.

"I can't go out like this! I look awful, Niall," Zayn groans. He normally wouldn't care, honestly he always went out in ratty sweats and shit, but it's just that today's different. Today, he's going out with Niall and Niall's beautiful and nice and soft and amazing and Zayn's no where near that.

Niall lets his eyes trail over Zayn in thought. He looks dejected for a second until his face lights up entirely. "Of course! I have a change of clothes somewhere over here! Let me find it!" Zayn nods at Niall and the blond boy runs off to the back. Zayn doesn't know what Niall is besides the sun.

He doesn't understand why the red in his cheeks maddens.

"I found it! Here," Niall says after a few minutes in the back. He hands Zayn a pair of blue jeans and a gray sweater that even looks like it'll fit rather large on Zayn. He's grateful though, for the change of clothes, and goes to the bathroom to change out quickly, hands trembling slightly.

When he comes back out, Niall's put away the pillows and blankets and sit in the roller chair with the book from last night in his hand. He feels funny and maybe a little cute with Niall's slightly larger clothes on him.

"Oh! Hey, you look good. Now c'mon! The market closes at five and we got a long walk!"

The sun's up high in the sky, the heat bearing down on Zayn's back. He's overwhelmed and for once, he likes the sun and likes the day. He's comfortable in his own skin for once and it's all thanks to Niall. He's got his hand in his and he feels okay in the presence of another person. He hasn't felt this safe and assured since his mother passed.

"Ever been to the market, Zayn?" Niall asks. He smiles at everyone they walk past and brings a new light to the world. He's so much and too much to Zayn who tries to smile at the people who give him disgusted looks. Maybe some of them recognize him, know his second life behind what they assume as he holds hands with the most perfect human. Maybe they can just see right through him. Maybe the loose clothes glides down on his shoulder and exposes quarter sized dollops of blues and purples and yellows on his skin expose his double life.

He looks away from the people and turns to Niall who smiles at him. He tightens his grip on his hand before pulling him toward this big thing of tents and booths.

"The market's pretty great. Loads of great stuff. Can buy you sommat if you-"

"No. No, Niall, you can't do that. I won't let you do that for me," Zayn says hurriedly. He doesn't need anything and he refuses to let Niall spend money on him. He thinks Niall's already done an excessive amount of things for him. More than anybody else has ever done for him.

Niall looks at him funny for a second. He doesn't voice his thoughts of how weirdly Zayn's acting, but he does sigh in defeat.

They step into the market in silence and are immediately hit with the bustle and bump of lots of people. They move a little closer to each other before walking forward.

And it really is nothing like anything Zayn's ever experienced. He can smell the fruits and vegetables blend in the air and he can hear the joyous laughs of small children and the small laughs of adults enjoying themselves. He immediately knows he loves being in there. Knows he's never going to want to leave.

"Alright, Zayn! What would you like to see first?" Niall says. His voice booms a little loudly and other people are staring, but Zayn can't help and giggle at the blond's antics. "We've got books, food, music, movies, toys, games, weaponry, jewelry, flowers, comics, clo-"

"Comics?" Zayn says hopefully. He looks at Niall and the blond laughs out loud with everything in him. Zayn doesn't feel so bad in the attention drawn at him.

"You're a small little nerd, then. I like it." Zayn smiles softly before Niall just takes his hand and leads him. They walk through the aisles narrowly missing the people around them. Zayn laughs as he sees Niall try to smile at all the small children and nearly smash into the wall if not for Zayn pulling him back to reality. He gives Zayn a wide smile in thanks.

When they finally reach the damn booth thing, Zayn feels like he's seen it all. He can't possibly imagine there being more to this place.

"Here we are, Zayn. Look around until your little nerd heart desires," Niall says. He laughs and claps Zayn on the shoulder as they walk deeper into the booth run by the cute girl with purple hair.

"If you guys, um, need anything, just ask. I won't bite!" she says with a curious glance at Niall. Niall has to say she's kinda cute, but he looks at Zayn who's all wide eyes and a big smile as he pulls out a Spawn comic book. Zayn, who's a silent wonder and a silent mystery with bruises up and down his neck. Niall thinks about this girl with purple hair. She's nothing compared to Zayn.

"Niall, look!" He's brought back to reality when Zayn yells out happily. He has a comic in his hand, some black cover with sort of horrifying images. He goes up to Niall and smiles at him. "It's a Justice League Dark issue 31! I used to have this issue but we lost it in a move. I was so upset," Zayn says. He looks so happy with the covered comic in his hand. He looks like a kid and Niall smiles at him softly as he takes the comic. But before he can go up to the purple haired girl, Zayn grabs his arm.

"What's wrong?" he whispers. Zayn looks a little worried and scared.

Zayn shakes his head at him and tries to take the comic back. "Niall, you can't buy me anything. I won't let you. It's not even worth it," Zayn says. He believes it's not worth it. Niall's baffled that the raven haired lad actually believes his happiness is not worth it.

He takes the comic away from Zayn and smiles at him softly. "Who said it was for you?" he says with a sly grin before pulling out his wallet and going up to the girl. He pays for it and takes the little white bag it's in. He's aware of Zayn behind him, probably staring daggers into his skull, but he doesn't mind.

What he does mind is how awkward the air has become. They're silent now and Zayn just pulls his sleeve down slightly. He looks scared.

"Hey. Don't look so sad now! We've still got a lot to look at," Niall says hurriedly. He wants happy Zayn back. He wants the only Zayn Niall thinks he should be back. He rushes to Zayn's side and grabs his hand. He pulls him forward to the live music and feels Zayn relax.

Zayn smiles and he like the Hispanic twinge the song takes on, watches young couples dance cutely and watches bystanders clap the beat. He swings his hips slightly and dances minutely. Just something he can feel.

But Niall wolf whistles beside him and laughs before pulling Zayn to the center. He begins to roll his hips and grabbed Zayn's hands to pull him in. They move in synchronized steps, a small tango between their feet. Niall looks like an idiot, but he doesn't feel any shame, just keeps moving to the music as best as he can. He grabs Zayn's waist and his hand and takes two exaggerated side steps and then does the same for his right before spinning Zayn. The raven haired boy giggles in delight.

He's never danced like that before and had it be fun. He does seductive dances most of the time, but he's never had an actual terrible dancer pulling him along and encouraging him to shake his hips. He truly feels euphoric. So much so that he belatedly realized the song had finished and people were clapping for him.

"You were lovely, Zayn," Niall murmurs. He genuinely sounds awed, not lust riddled, and it's all new. It's all weird and new and amazing.

"Me?" he says between a chuckle, "Where did all that come from? You know how to salsa?" Niall laughs heartily and Zayn likes this side of Niall, too.

The blond boy takes Zayn by the hand and they walk back into the aisles of stuff. He has Zayn smiling and laughing by him as they pass by the clothes shoppes and art shoppes. They're finally back to being happy together.

Niall hopes this day never ends.

But Zayn has work tomorrow and he needs to get home tonight, can't expose his job to Niall. For now though, he can hold hands with Niall and fall in love with one of the little puppies the booth owner had around.

*

"You know," Niall says, breaking their comfortable silence as they walk back to the library, "I don't even like comics." Zayn looks at him sideways and the crooked smile he has on makes him giggle. "So. I declare this comic officially yours!" Niall says loudly. He hands him the white bag and Zayn stands back.

"I told you I didn't want you to spend money on me, Niall," Zayn says. He would rather Niall spend his hard earned money on important necessities. Not a stupid comic for a lad he barely knows.

Niall stops him from walking ahead with a hand on his bicep. "I bought it for me. Now it's a present from me to you. Don't even worry about it." Zayn can't possibly accept it. But Niall slips the bag around his wrist and begins walking towards the library again.

Zayn pauses and wonders if he should turn and head home. He should take a bath and take a long rest and calm his nerves. But Niall tosses, "You coming?" over his shoulder and it isn't even a question.

*

The bath when he gets home is warm and peaceful, a candle by him on the floor. He feels soft and pretty tonight. Maybe it's still the red painting his cheeks after Niall kissed his hand in a silent goodbye. Maybe it's because the bruises are fading now. Maybe he simply just wants to feel overjoyed tonight.

The moon isn't out - hence the candle sheathing his bathroom in a soft glow -which gives more chance for stars to be seen.

He thinks Niall could be a star. His star. His luck. His guidance. He thinks his mother would have adored Niall. Plant him a sunflower and pot it prettily before giving it to Niall. Tell him he was light, positivity, joy, love. The embodiment of a sunflower. He thinks his mother could have easily chosen Niall as hers any day. They were more alike than Zayn and her.

His toes are pruny again when he gets out. The stars still illuminate the sky as he lazily smokes and sketches on the bay window. His sketch page quickly fills with stars, blue eyes, freckles, flowers, dark flowing hair. The cigarette ash dribbles down the page and leaves black traces in its wake. Zayn kinda likes how the ash can tie in the entire piece of lost elements.

Niall fills his mind again. He's the only thing Zayn's been looking for for most of his life. _Home,_ he calls it. Because where does he find himself living in harmony and peace with himself?

On a stupid pillow and blanket fort in the back of the library as words of some author Zayn doesn't know fill the air and his nose buries in a large, green sweater that smells like pine.

The comic lay out on the floor by his feet in constant reminder of Niall. It's still in the clear wrap that they bought it in because Zayn couldn't do much more than take it out of the bag. Don't ask him why. He doesn't know the answer.

It's turned 6 in the morning all of a sudden and he puts down his sketch book. He sighs and wracks a trembling hand through his hair. He wants to scream and cry at once. He doesn't want to head to his fucking job and do _Round_ s, of everything else he could do. He's losing money fast now and doesn't even think next month's rent will be paid in time. He needed to step up his game now.

*

When he stepped into the smoky and muggy air of the club, he immediately wanted to run back to the library. He wanted to run back to Niall and back to the flea market and back to soft dancing and fleeting kisses to his knuckles. The boys from last time were there again but with three fresh faces. The terrible men laughed loudly and took to watching the stage where the lithe dancer resided.

"Zayn!" Mark ushers him over and he runs backstage to change into the demeaning outfit of the night. He's handed the tray and pushed to the bar where the bartender has his drinks and tables ready. He went off on his first rounds.

He felt remarkably quilty for it, but he was thankful that Alex was on stage. He was a new twink, small body and baby smooth skin with a nice rounded ass that could make a straight guy's mouth water. He was still naive and young. He believed himself king of the world with the way his hips moved like molten lava and his lips parted in liquid gold moans. He reminded Zayn a lot of himself, really.

And because Alex was like that, Zayn had no problems getting around. Maybe he got a rude shove here and there, but at least no one was trying to snag a quick grope. That was all he could really ask for.

Unfortunately, the one group of guys he was specifically hoping were too distracted immediately recognized him.

"Oh if it isn't our favorite little whore," one of them beams. Zayn tries to work fast and he places the drinks down quickly, but one of the guys has managed to get behind him.

"So pretty. Are you any good, slut?" he breathes over Zayn's neck. "Dante, gotta see him from back here." And that Dante guy comes up behind him and starts groping him, the two tossing him back and forth like a ragdoll. Everyone's laughing at him and he's disgusted with himself. He takes the mockery and humiliation with ease. Doesn't care anymore.

"Get boring quick, slut. No wonder no one pays for you." Dante sneers against his ear. Zayn pushes him backwards while another guy squeezes his waist and he falls forward onto one of the guys. They laugh at him as the guy under him bucks his hips up and barely grazes his lips with his crotch. Zayn stands up quickly and pushes the guys back. He feels tears well in his eyes. He bites his lip until it bleeds as he pushes into the backstage bathroom.

It's quieter in there besides the couple snogging on the counter. He walks into one of the stalls and immediately heaves into the toilet bowl. He can't feel his throat, the acidity burning his mouth. But he can't stop now. Heaves until he's got his breakfast and the one tea he had out of his system. He's crying with the force of it, face flushed and nose stuffy and hands trembling. Maybe he'll just puke himself to death. He doesn't see what could sound better.

He continues to dry heave because he has no control over his body. He has no control over the rawness of his throat and the way his ribs and collarbones start to protrude. He's breaking down and his body slowly settles until he's seeing black and he slumps over himself, unconscious.

*

No one finds him.

No one thinks about where he's disappeared to or thinks to look for him. He wakes two hours later when a particularly loud couple shag in the stall by him.

His boss, of course, immediately blows his ear off and sends him home early with absolutely no pay. He tries to fight it but he's got no energy left in him. He smells like a proper mess and looks even worse. So he just shakes his head and gets his clothes back on. He's got Niall's sweater on him and he starts crying again. It's warm and loose and soft and he wants to burn it along with every thought of Niall.

He takes it off once he gets home and starts running a bath. His stomach rumbles but he refuses to eat anything, knows he'll just heave it up later. So he sets a burning bath and undresses slowly if only to let the cold kiss his skin. He continues crying as he slips into the water.

It feels like a jacuzzi, hot and burning his skin right off. But he likes it. Would rather have red skin than skin covered in bruises and hickeys and fingerprints and scars that marks him as another person's property. He likes the thought of being rejuvenated and taken back years to before any of this happened.

But life doesn't work like that. The intrusive ringing of the doorbell says so. He groans deep in his chest and stands up. He takes the nearest towel and wraps it around his whole body before going to the door.

And when he opens it, it's not the guy collecting rent or some annoying ass neighbor.

It's Niall.

"Hi, Zayn. Uh, is this, uh, a bad time?" Niall stutters. He's flushed red as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. He looks up at Zayn hopefully but steps back when he sees the redness of his eyes. "This was a bad idea. I'm just lea-"

Zayn reaches out and take Niall's wrist softly. The blond looks up at him and smiles softly. Zayn pulls him in and shuts the door in a haste. "I'm gonna go get dressed. Make yourself comfortable?" he says softly. There's really no space to get comfortable, but Niall smiles in thanks and sits on the lone chair by the kitchen counter.

And then Zayn begins hyperventilating in the bathroom. Why is Niall here? How is Niall here? How did Niall find him? What else does he know? He dresses quickly with shaky hands as he subconsciously pulls Niall's sweater over his torso. He trembles with fear as he turns the doorknob.

When he walks back out, Niall flashes him a large smile and sits up straighter. He seems genuine, really. Zayn doesn't know if he really believes his faux kindness anymore.

"I'm sorry to come by unannounced. I just. Yellow pages. Plus, I really wanted to see you," Niall mutters. He's now standing only inches away from Zayn, his sunflower beauty radiating. And Zayn can't handle himself, he lunges forward and grips onto Niall tight.

"Don't let go," Zayn whispers into Niall's shoulder. It's official. He's puked out his brains. There's something so out of bounds in doing this that he almost steps back and locks himself in the bathroom. Until Niall wraps his arms around Zayn's back and engulfs him tighter.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

And Zayn feels his brogue rush down his spine. He feels it in his toes. Niall's voice is maple syrup thick and it replaces all the blood in his veins.

"Do you want a tea?" Zayn mutters. It's muffled by Niall's sweater, but the blond boy squeezes him before pulling back a little.

"Only if you'll have one, too."

And if, at first, Zayn was a little nervous about the rather large possibly of him hacking up the one tea with Niall there, it's all out the window now. Niall pulled him onto his own mattress with their teas and they huddled in the cold, their laughs filling the once gray air.

"What do you even do here? Got no telly or radio! What do you do for fun?" Niall laughs into his sleeve. He sits cross legged with the tea in the little hole his legs made while Zayn moves like a mad man beside him.

"The beauty of sleep, mate," he says through a chuckle that makes Niall laugh loudly. "No, but honestly, I draw a lot. Like to sketch and imagine and shit. I dont know. Like, feel relevant," he says. It's not every day that he explains his motives to handsome blonds.

Speaking of handsome blonds, Niall stares at him with curiousity in his pretty blue eyes. "Art? I can say I'm right shit. Are you any good?" He leans in a little closer to the raven haired boy. He doesn't want to crowd him, but he really wants to see what Zayn can do.

Zayn, on the inside, freaks the fuck out. He trusts Niall more than he's ever trusted anyone in a long time and as much as his sketch book is a private escape of his, he feels the need to show Niall. Feels the need to give an ounce back to the guy who's given him pounds and pounds of his life.

So he wordlessly stands to get his sketch book from his bay window and returns to his spot by Niall. "You can look at everything in there. But please don't judge. All I ask." Niall nods before he opens the sketchbook and woah.

"You're fucking brilliant," he breathes. Sure, the first page is a simple sketch of a garden, but fuck. It's realistic and beautiful and Niall kind of wants to pull out a rose for Zayn. He continues on and continues falling star struck. Zayn's more than amazing. It's in his blood. His thought's proven when he stops on another garden sketch, this one intricate and holding a beautiful woman with flowers in her inky black hair and a sun pendant around the chain around her neck.

"My mum. She, uh, she's my universe. Taught me to love the sun and the earth. Sometimes, I swore she was made by the sun and her veins were filled with little petals," Zayn pauses to look up and see if he's completely lost Niall. But he hasn't. Niall still watches him intently. "When I was younger, she called me her little gardenia. She gave everyone a flower and four description words. Like, my sister was a rose in her eyes. Loving, high spirited, pristine, and complex. I was a gardenia because I was simple, soft, elegant, and lovely.

"She was my rock. Like, I've never had anyone else contribute so much to my life like she had. And not just because she was my mum. She was my best friend and my superhero." He feels Niall's body press that slightest bit closer.

"She got into a car accident with my dad. And my sister went into serious depression. I haven't seen anyone in my family since the funeral."

It's hard to remember. Hard to rethink it all.

"Oh, Zayn," Niall whispers before bringing him into a big hug. He's crying into Niall's shoulder and he doesn't know. Doesn't know how to hold it in. "Zayn, I'm sorry. I know that doesn't mean much, but-"

He's right. It doesn't mean much. Won't get him back his happiness and his family.

But Niall hugs him close and tight and he doesn't feel sick to his stomach. The monsters in the club were pushed to the back of his mind. He wasn't afraid of the life he hid behind.

Niall leans back and Zayn rests on Niall's chest. And this is new. He likes it.

"You know. My mum would've loved you. You remind me a lot of her. Like, she was a sunshine spirit and she was so beautiful. Like, she made me so happy." And maybe by comparing them he means a lot more than he's allowing himself.

Niall, on the other hand, just grips the small boy closer. Impossibly closer. He can feel Zayn's tears through his sweater and the way his sweater is bunched up in tanned knuckles.

"Hey, don't cry. What would your mum have called me if she ever, like, met me?" Niall asks softly. He wishes he could have a gentle voice like Zayn. Wishes he could reach the depths of the ocean with only a whisper.

When Niall comes back to, Zayn stares up at him with a smile on his face. He's beautiful. Truly the most gorgeous person he's ever seen.

"She would've called you a sunflower. Bright, loud, spontaneous, beautiful." Niall cups Zayn's flushed face that entirely bleeds red after the action. "I would've had to agree."

And when Niall kisses Zayn, neither is too surprised.

*

The following morning, Zayn wakes up by himself. He sits up quickly and first notices the sun bleeding onto every surface of his flat. His heart beats fast when he hears a noise from the kitchen. It's loud in the flat, a distinctly Irish brogue growling after the sound of shattered glass. So last night wasn't a dream.

Niall walks out of the kitchen and his face lights up when he sees Zayn's awake. He's holding a mug in each hand and he looks so happy just to be there.

"Good morning, Sunshine. Made a mess in the kitchen. But I'll clean it," Niall mutters. He sits on the edge of the mattress and passes Zayn his tea and a soft kiss to his forehead. Zayn doesn't react. He let's the press of Niall's lips linger for a little.

"Did you sleep well? I know it's not much but it's all I have."

Niall shakes his head as he kisses Zayn's head once more. He takes a sip of his tea before sitting down cross legged.

"I slept great. I like your simplicity. Makes everyone pay attention to what's actually important. You."

And no, Zayn does not blush and cover his face up with his tea.

"Listen," Niall rubs a hand through his shaggy hair. "Um, would you like to come out with me? Like, I was gonna go to the parlor with my mates but I want you to go with me. If you'd like." Niall sips his tea in favor of giving Zayn an intense gaze. But that's not the point.

The point is, beside him, Zayn blushes a bright red, but nods coolly. Niall jumps around in surprise.

"You'll come? Awesome! My mate's will love you and I'll be there if you ever get too nervous. Like, just in case," Niall murmurs. Zayn smiles softly.

Lord knows he's falling hard.

They dress liberally, Niall tripping into his jeans and Zayn distracted by lips on his neck. He shutters with it, but laughs loudly too. He kind of likes these butterflies.

On their way out, Niall takes his hand again. "You know," he swings their linked hands in between them. "I've never been a big hand holder. But fuck I really like the way this feels." Niall looks like an idiot with the way his smile stretches fondly. Zayn likes his smile a lot. He likes Niall's eyes a lot.

He likes Niall a lot.

The sun is hot over them again, just like last Sunday. He's overwhelmed by the sun heating his head and the sweat between their enclosed palms. He's slightly dizzy with everything and is thankful that they're meeting Niall's mates in an ice cream parlor. He doesn't think he could handle anymore overbearing heat.

"-a crazy bunch. Loud and a little brash. A lot like me, really. I apologize now if they become too much," Niall says as the parlor comes into view. Zayn doesn't listen, though, squeezes Niall's hand to anchor himself back down to Earth.

"I can't do it," Zayn whispers. His heart beats out of his chest. He can hardly be around someone as familiar as Niall, let alone all these new people he's about to be exposed to. And while Niall's there for him, he's still breathing harshly. He still feels the sun at his back and staring at him with worry.

Niall's sunshine incarnate, a warm and soothing palm spread on Zayn's jaw. "We don't have to. We can just go do something else, no?" Niall says. But Zayn doesn't want that either. These are Niall's friends and if Niall wants to see them after God knows how long, then who's Zayn to mess with that?

The sun emerges from behind the clouds and Zayn's eyelids flutter in the overbearing heat in his stomach. Niall's smile lights the sky and he plants a soft hand on Zayn's cheeks. And it's really too hot for this. But Zayn doesn't dare protest or pull away. Instead, he wraps his slim fingers around Niall's wrists and holds him in place. Niall laughs softly and bites his lip a little.

"Like. Can I kiss you?" Niall murmurs. And Zayn thinks _oh fuck, yes_ before he leans down a little and presses his lips to Niall's. It's only their second kiss but it's far better than anything he's ever experienced. It sends shivers down his spine and tingles into his fingertips. His chest feels hot.

"Woah ho ho, Horan!" one of Niall's friends yells. It takes Zayn by surprise and he pulls away quick. Niall blocks him from his friend's eyes and Zayn's so remarkably grateful. Niall keeps a hand on Zayn's waist for good measure and greets his friends. 

"Lads!" Niall yells happily. He begins walking and Zayn can only follow like a lost puppy, his chest not leaving Niall's back. Dots form in his eye line and he blames it on the sun and the way his tongue is dry and heavy in his mouth. Niall's hands spread around his hip gingerly as he feels Zayn tense. They finally stand in front of Niall's mates and Niall pulls Zayn around to stand beside him with a tender hand still at his hip.

And if Zayn didn't have to squint his eyes and push the bubbly haze of dehydration away, he would've run away because-

A sharp gasp rings in the air and Zayn stumbles back, tears springing into the folds of his eyes. No. It can't be. He's hallucinating. It's all in his head. It's in your head, it's in your head, it's in your hea-

"Niall! You didn't tell me you paid for a whore for the night!" And the earth crumbles beneath Zayn. Niall won't let up so he can't pass out or run or die; no. He can stand here and watch his world crumble away.

Niall's hand tightens around his hip as he looks around himself. He's so fucking confused and Zayn wants to smack him across the face for being so perfect and not believing Zayn could be a "whore." Dante's right there and there's a disgusting smirk in his voice and Zayn can't stop the first tear from falling.

"What are you talking about, Dante?" 

The brunette laughs. 

"Don't tell me you don't know."

"Know what?"

"That this boy here is a common slut at Mark's."

The hand at his waist loosens and Zayn already knows what that means. Fuck. He's gonna lose somebody else. Fuck. The tears fall freely and silently.

It's dead silent, Dante's sneer filling the air. Zayn hooks his own hands together and looks down in submission. His tears hit the floor and darken the cuffs of his sweater sleeve as he wipes his face.

Everything happens in a blur. An unexpected blur that chills Zayn's bones. Because when he looks up, Dante's pressed against the side of the ice cream parlor with Niall's arm cutting off his throat. He's shocked for a quick moment, the other boys as well but for a different reason.

"Don't you dare every call him that again. I will fuck you up so hard," Niall growls, a fist lifting in the air. Dante scratches at the arm suffocating him, but his attempts are entirely futile against an angered Niall. Zayn's stupor is cut short and he runs to Niall, catches his fist before he does something stupid.

"Niall, stop!" he yells fruitlessly. The blond boy growls again and Zayn really, really hates that sound. He wants his sunshine Niall back. "P-Please," he sobs. The fist in his hand breaks away and then both arms are dropped, the brunette dropping to the floor in a scramble to gather oxygen. He sounds like any more and he would've blacked out. Zayn cries again.

"Why the fuck did you make me stop? Should've killed the fucker for saying those things to you," Niall says lowly. His jaw is tight and his eyes are those of a cold blooded killer. Zayn wants to step close but wants to step back; knows Niall is primarily sweet and gorgeous and soft. What he doesn't know is what Niall's second personality is like.

Dante finally stands and fear fills his eyes. "Fuck you, faggot," he spits in Zayn's direction. The black haired boy grabs Niall's arm when the blond begins barreling towards the brunette. Dante jumps back, all confidence leaving his body at once. They may be the same height, but right then and there, Niall towers over him. Zayn's afraid to be so close to him, but also doesn't want Niall in jail for murder. So he holds his arm tight to his side.

"You better get out of here now. I don't want to see you again, understood? Because if I do, you'll regret everything you've ever said," Niall says. He settles Dane with a harsh glare before the brunette runs away fast. His figure retreats and all that's left is a beyond angered Niall and a beyond horrified Zayn. He finally notices the other three boys who stand in the corner awkwardly, hands stuffed in their pockets. Zayn laughs at their familiarity. They were the three unnamed guys from Dante's last visit to the club.

"Niall," one of them says. They walk forward and the blond settles them with a glare.

"Did you fucking know that Dante knew Zayn?" he asks harshly. Two of the guys step back but the one with brown eyes and well groomed hair steps forward.

He extends a hand to Niall. "Ni," he says softly. "We went once and we'll never go with him again. He's a douche and he shouldn't have said those things to him." He turns to stare at Zayn sadly. "I am so so so sorry about everything. I'm sorry for going and not stopping them from doing those things to you. Any friend of Niall's is a friend of mine." 

Zayn doesn't mean to. Really, he doesn't, but he starts sobbing again. He lets the cries ripple through him harshly. He feels so pathetic. He wants to go home.

"I-I. I'm going home," he whispers before he turns around. He walks away fast, eyes downcast and hands folded. He takes step after lonely step until a familiar pair of hands grabs his shoulder.

"Zayn," Niall says strongly. He just wants for Zayn to turn to look at him. He wants to see Zayn's tear stained face and hold him until he's better. He sighs when he gets nothing. "We'll talk about this at home."

*

Zayn sits in the bathtub with the hot water up to his neck. He wants to drown in it. Put his face under and feel the pain of needing and wanting air and choking on the water invading his lungs.

But Niall's right there, his knees against his chest and his back against the door. There's a soft candle right by the bathtub.

"So."

"So."

"You want to tell me something?"

"Not now, Niall. Maybe later when I'm tired and won't remember what I said in the morning."

"Okay. Love you, though."

"Don't fucking patronize me."

And that's the end of that. 

Niall continues to sit there. His thoughts wrap around his brain until he feels suffocated. He can see Zayn's hickeys and they upset him now that he knows. Now that he knows what Zayn goes through and what people do to him.

But he respects Zayn and his wishes, thinks it's the least he could do, and sits there in complete silence. He watches the conflicting emotions skim across his face. He sees Zayn's eyes darken and lighten and fill with tears and just drown behind a wall of insecurity.

"Zayn?"

"What, Niall?"

"Can you get out before you drown yourself?"

"You think I'm stupid enough to drown myself while you're in here?"

"No, but I think dumb thoughts can lead to dumb actions."

And Zayn drains the water. He tells Niall to turn around as he steps out and shrugs a sweater on over his briefs. He doesn't care about getting a cold from his wet hair. He'll survive.

Maybe Niall was a little right because it's not so bad for Zayn now, really, but Niall is still there and Niall knows a lot more than he did since the last time they were at Zayn's house and that thought saddens him. Niall's gonna leave him and that's inevitable. That's the inescapable truth.

But for now, he sits on his mattress and pulls the blanket up to his chin. He doesn't know where Niall is - doesn't quite care - but hopes he'll stay. He won't say it, but he'll hope.

The bed dips by his side and when something warm presses against his covered thigh, he looks down. Sitting pretty by his body is a mug of tea that fills the entirety of the home in its spicy smell. Niall stands not too far from him with such a careful look that it scares Zayn. Who the fuck is Niall to care this much?

"You should sleep. I'll, uh, be at the library if you need me," Niall says. Zayn wants to stand up and take his hand and fucking make him lie with him, but he's uselessly stuck to his spot. He's unable to stand and chase what he wants. He's pathetic. Has been for his entire life.

A sound comes from the front door and Zayn barely has time to look up when a large hand is on his cheek and a pair of lips are on his. His eyes are wide and surprised, but they shut not a second later. He cups Niall's neck tight. He feels light as ever, his heart bursting with fireworks and his stomach full with butterflies. He loves this and loves Niall and that horrifies him to no end.

"I'll see you," Niall whispers. Zayn looks up at him and wishes he could ask him to stay the night. He wishes he could ask Niall to save him and take him from his despicable life. 

But instead, he lets Niall plant kisses down his neck and leave one opened mouth kiss on his collar. He shudders with it and sees Niall off with an irreplaceable smile on his face.

*

Zayn doesn't really know what he expected his day to be like, but he knows he didn't imagine this.

He's walking to the club again when he gets pulled off to the side, a plethora of large hands covering his mouth and holding his body.

"You better shut the fuck up, you whore, unless you want it worse for yourself." Zayn's eyes widen impossibly when he hears that voice. No. No, it can't be.

"Think you can get between me and Niall? You can't, whore, and you won't. Niall's been my best friend since we were kids. He wouldn't sell me out for a slut like you. You know, bros before hoes and all," Dante sneers. He brings a hand down hard on Zayn's crotch and kneads the handful. Zayn's screams are muffled by the snickering voices and hot breaths on his neck. 

Maybe he really is a whore.

Maybe he really is just a nasty slut.

Besides, what's someone by the likes of Niall doing being into him? He's dark skinned where Niall's light skinned and dreary eyed where Niall's eyes are full of wonder and curiosity and amazement.

He's nothing compared to Niall. 

He doesn't even feel it anymore. He doesn't feel the pain of the hits or the pleasure of slight relief. All he can feel is grateful that his clothes are still in.

*

He doesn't make it to the club, knows he's fired the second he steps foot back in, but that's okay. No one wants to see him battered and bruised anyway.

Instead, he goes to the library where a soft silhouette sits outside with a cigarette lighting his features. Blue eyes bore into his and chapped pink lips pull into a grimace when he sees him.

"Didn't know you smoked."

"Only when I'm stressed out."

"Am I doing that?"

The figure chuckles humorlessly. He stubs the cigarette before pulling Zayn into him gingerly.

"Did he do this to you?" 

Zayn doesn't know why he asked. He knows the answer.

"Oh, I'm gonna kill him," the blond says darkly. He sounds so serious. Zayn wants to shake away the image of Niall with someone else's blood on his hands. "But first, you and I are gonna talk."

Inside, Niall leads Zayn into the bathroom where he lifts the black haired boy onto the counter. Zayn refuses to look into the mirror behind him.

"Ni, I-"

"Later, yeah? Let me clean you up first and then we can talk."

Niall wraps paper towels around themselves a couple times before dipping them into the rush of water in the sink. He lifts the wet towel to Zayn's forehead and when the towel's pulled back, Zayn catches the red staining the previously pristine white towel. 

It doesn't hurt anymore, maybe a sting here or there when Niall presses too hard, but overall, he's alright. Niall's jaw clenches and he swears when he sees a particularly harsh injury. Zayn sets a comforting hand on his shoulder and Niall takes it to kiss the bruised and bloody knuckles. Niall pulls off his shirt and gives it to Zayn who shivers in his tattered old tank. Maybe Zayn starts crying. Whatever.

An hour later and Niall's done fixing up the boy, the ointments and creams left to dry and settle where the blood that once caked each cut has vanished. He brings Zayn another set of clothes and as they wait, Niall stands between his knees. He cups Zayn's cheeks softly, the two looking at each other dead on. 

Niall's eyes tell a story. The bags beneath them retell the story of endless nights of no sleep, the soft blue retell the story of a wide eyed child with dreams miles wide. His eyebrows raise inquisitively when he notices Zayn's not paying attention. The effortless motion that leaves every other muscle in his face undisturbed makes Zayn laugh. It brings the slightest joy to Zayn's own eyes. 

"We'll get you dressed and then we can talk." The joy leaves Zayn's body as he nods solemnly. He doesn't think he wants to talk anymore.

Niall wordlessly puts the t-shirt on him and helps Zayn into the baggy sweats, the tattooed boy grimacing when his muscles contract. Niall swears as he instantly reaches for Zayn's hip. The gesture soothes Zayn who steps into the sweatpants and helplessly tries to lift them on his own. Niall has to help but he does it gently. 

They get to the main library area where Niall has the fairy lights on. Zayn thinks back on the first and only other time he did this. Where did that comfort go?

Niall sits on one side of the blanket that's been set out. Again, Zayn thinks he blends right in. This time, though, he's not hesitant to sit by him. Niall helps him sit and when he finally does, he looks at Niall. They look at each other again, but Niall leans forward to kiss him softly, this time. 'It's alright. I'm here for you. I'm here for you and I care for you and I love you,' Zayn imagines Niall's trying to get through to him. He thinks that if Niall were to say anything right now, it would be that.

"I, um. I don't even know where to start. I guess," Zayn breathes deeply. He's not looking at Niall, absolutely can't. A warm hand takes his. He gasps roughly, his whole chest moving with it. "I guess it began with my mum."

Zayn was remarkably fortunate as a kid. There was nobody more happy to be alive than Zayn. 

His mother was a naturalist and an optimist and a pacifist.  She showed Zayn the marvels of the world and the humbled way the Earth sat around them. Zayn would normally end up in class with flowers behind his ears that his mum put in. He loved them no matter what anyone else said.

His father wasn't a naturalist or a pacifist. He was an observer and a dreamer. He filled Zayn with talk of the sky and of the universe. He reminded Zayn that he was small, that they were all small. Even the big bullies in school. They were minuscule compared to Jupiter and Selene and the galaxy. He bought an expensive telescope and pulled him onto the roof to see Venus at the crack of dawn once, the Capricorn constellation another night.

His mother and father complimented each other nicely. Where Trisha had flowers sprouting from her skin, Yaser had stars in his eyes. When Trisha talked about Earth and nature, Yaser talked about Earth and its location in space. Trisha called him her little gardenia and Yaser called him his Jupiter. They all loved each other so much. No one could have ever come between any of them.

On the rare occasion where Zayn had more homework than his sisters and errands had to be run, he'd stay at home as everyone left for the market. He didn't mind it at all. In fact, kind of liked it.

So he stayed home and he finished his work. No big deal. Except, when his phone rang beside his leg and the call came from an unknown number, Zayn answered hazardously.

He still remembers the fear being run down by the sadness. Trisha, Yaser, Wali, Saf, and Doni. Gone.

A nearby aunt picked him up to take him to the hospital and as the doctor and her spoke, he sat in a hard chair in the corner and cried. 

The next month was a blur as he switched schools in the middle of senior year and moved in with a distant aunt. He skipped school a lot and the funeral day had been no exception. Four people. One funeral. One Zayn. He didn't speak or say any words or do anything. After all, who could really blame him?

He packed a large bag that night with blurry vision and set off into the desolate Earth his mother and father used to appraise. He set off for London quickly, a haphazard voicemail left for his aunt at 3 in the morning on a Wednesday.

He made it there broke as a bad joke. Which was a major set back especially in London. But his luck changed, if only for a moment, when he bumped into Mark. 

Mark was once beautiful and young and ambitious, a man trying to find his own way up. But his dreams were a little different than Zayn's own. Although their stories of their way up are fairly similar.

Mark gave Zayn a job and an apartment that left Zayn knees deep in admiration and appreciation for the man. Mark said that he didn't need to be repaid. He said he was more than alright providing for such a lovely young man.

So Zayn went to work at a strip club as a bartender. Which, okay, wasn't exactly what he envisioned his first job to be, but it paid well and he wasn't about to start whining and bitching about it. So he worked well, put on pretty smiles, let the gross men want but never get, and mix drinks like a pro. And he wasn't half bad.

But Mark suggested something to Zayn one day. Just, in passing, that maybe he could let a guy or two cop a quick feel. "Ya know. Just," he pats Zayn's crotch softly. "It'll get you a higher tip." Zayn gasped at his boss and best friend's blatancy, but it was momentary. He hadn't had another man - or anyone, for that matter - touch him like that since his junior year of high school with Danny Riach under the bleachers after the bloke's footie match. It was just something new.

With that in mind, for his next shift, he was lenient on his personal policies, lots of men taking that advantage and coming up for drinks. He got dollars in his waistband, twenties in his front pockets, hell, even a fifty in his back pocket. He was reeling in money like no other and he wasn't really ashamed of the semi he sported.

It was months and months of this until Mark had a better idea. He knew his boy was heaven sent, but he had no idea Zayn was much more than that. Men came up to him and made offers to see the boy in a back room or take him home for the night. And these offers were high. After all, Zayn was the face of the lust that shone in these married men's eyes. They couldn't return to their heifers of wives without getting onto Zayn. That was just what was happening.

Mark gave Zayn the option to move up for more pay. Something simple like stage. Which Zayn happily obliged to, his euphoria invading his proper morals of what was wrong and right.

To the stage he went where the money flow got higher and his morals plummeted. He didn't really care if these guys were touching him because that's all they were doing; touching him.

Mark, however, had other plans. He'd never heard of such immense offers and would be damn out of his mind to decline any of them. So he watched from the side as his pretty boy drowned in his own superiority complex and created these gross plans to better himself, better his bank, and take advantage of the young, dumb, and power hungry Zayn Malik. 

"And so I'm here. I thought Mark loved me. But he didn't. Obviously," Zayn murmurs. He wipes away a tear. The story's never been told. No one but him and Niall know it. Niall's hand is still in his and holding on tight. He tightens his grip. 

"I love you, Z. A lot."

Zayn nods because he knows that. He may not know what love is, exactly, and he may not know what being loved feels like, but he's sure it feels like this. He's positive it feels like warm hands holding him down on Earth and tingles in his fingers when their lips press.

"I know. I just," Zayn pauses. He's choked up, a fresh wall of tears springing into his eyes. "I just don't want you to. I'm so fucked up and alone in the world. You have someone far better than me waiting for you. Someone out there wants and needs you more than I do." 

And obviously it's true. Zayn's many things, but daft or oblivious is not one of those. He remembers the purple haired girl from the comic shop. She had a definitive thing for Niall. Who wouldn't though? Niall was sweet and kind and the actual sun and Zayn was nothing. He was a little rock lost in the bed of flowers that took Niall in. He was nothing  when he stood by Niall. He wishes he could have been someone.

Niall's eyes are soft. His next words tumble out of his mouth without preamble. "If you think someone else out there is waiting for me, you don't know the first thing." 

"How could you say that? I know someone far better for you is out there. You've got family and friends and someone out there can give you more than I can. Why are you spending this time with me?"

A silence falls over the boys and Zayn can't help but feel responsible. He should learn to keep his mouth shut. It's just that the thought of Niall settling for him pains him. He hates it more than anything. He hates to think that Niall sees him like a charity case. That's all he is. Some boy toy caught on the wrong side and living off of gross men. Niall deserves more than the misfit toy that is Zayn.

"If you think you're awful, then we're equals. I ran away from an abusive home when I was twelve. I took residence in the library until the librarian passed and she gave me the place. I live here and I haven't seen my family in fourteen years."

A thunder clap from outside made Zayn jump. Niall wasn't a rain cloud. Niall wasn't a storm or a hurricane or even rainy Sundays. He was the sun and the sunflower and the joyous Fridays. They weren't supposed to band into a land of misfit toys. Or, maybe, only Zayn was allowed to join.

As it rained outside, it rained inside as tears raced down Niall's freckled cheeks. Zayn couldn't stop himself. He cried too. 

Rain pelted the windows and the world was dark and tired. Niall cried silently as he pulled Zayn onto his lap. Hot breath fanned out on his neck as the blond buried his face between his shoulder blades. Zayn could just take his hands and kiss them softly at each joint as wetness pressed into his cheeks. 

They fell asleep like that, their light and dark skin pressing into each other, a little of the darkness shadowing the light and a little of the light blinding the dark.

And from far away, all you saw was one. 


End file.
